Chapter 6 #4
“Impressive. I never realized it was so big.”
“You haven’t seen even half of it yet.”
Susanna gaped in astonishment. “Really?”
“Briarwood is the largest plantation on the York…well, other than…” Adam didn’t finish, a sudden scowl on his brow, and shook his head, as if he was berating himself for something he had almost said.
He glanced out across the placid pond for a brief moment, then met her eyes.
His scowl was gone, but so was the good-natured ease in his voice.
“What about Fairford? Did you enjoy living there?”
Susanna had no intention of discussing Fairford, at least not now. She was curious to know what had brought on his sudden shift of mood, much like what had happened earlier that day when he had told her about the Cary graveyard. This man was such a puzzle!
“What plantation rivals Briarwood?” she asked, and was not surprised to see his frown return.
“Raven’s Point.”
From the manner in which he bit off the words, Susanna could tell it was a topic he didn’t want to pursue, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I don’t recall my father ever mentioning that plantation,” she said, watching him closely. “Who does it belong to?”
“Dominick Spencer.”
“Oh, yes, Corliss told me about him,” Susanna replied innocently, wondering why the mention of Adam’s former employer would upset him so.
His eyes had darkened to a deep, stormy hue, and she could almost feel the tension gathering within him.
His grip on his goblet was so tight that his knuckles were taut and pale.
“And what did Corliss say about Mr. Spencer?” he asked, the steadiness of his voice belying his stiffened posture.
“Not much, really. Just that he lived upriver from Briarwood and that he was well-respected and very wealthy. “
“Well-respected, perhaps, but not as wealthy as he may seem,” Adam muttered, furious with himself for even bringing up the subject. The last thing he wanted right now was to discuss that son of a bitch!
“I’m sorry, Adam. I didn’t hear you.”
“I said did Corliss say anything else?”
“Well, she told me that you once worked for Mr. Spencer…as an indentured servant. Is that true? She said you used to work in the fields hoeing tobacco.”
Adam knew he shouldn’t be upset by such a question.
His background was common knowledge in the Tidewater.
Yet the details of his life at Raven’s Point were not, and he didn’t intend to share them with anyone, least of all Camille.
That existence was behind him now; all that lay in front of him was sweet revenge.
She would never know about those bitter years, or that she was the instrument of his vengeance.
He fully expected that she would have questions once she saw his back and what remained of his right foot, but he would make up convincing lies, if only to spare her the knowledge that he had used her to satisfy his own ends.
He was driven, but he wasn’t cruel. He would not hurt her if he could prevent it; they would be sharing their lives together, after all.
He did not want a bitter rift between them, as such a revelation would surely cause.
“Yes, it’s true, but that was a long time ago,” he finally replied, though in truth, he could remember the stinging bite of the lash across his back as if it had been yesterday. And the incident with his foot…
Adam swallowed hard against the bile burning his throat, and sweat broke out on his forehead.
If he didn’t get up and move now, he wouldn’t be able to shake the many images, the terrible memories, the nightmare sounds locked forever in his mind: his mother screaming, screaming…
his own screams after the indescribable flash of pain, and the bright red blood spurting—
“I think we should head back,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet in one agile movement and extending his hand. “We’ve a long ride ahead of us and, as you said, we must think of your reputation. It wouldn’t do for us to arrive at the house after dark.”
As Susanna stared up at him in astonishment, she was struck by the wildness, almost a desperation, in his eyes.
Whatever was the matter with him? she wondered, thinking back on their conversation. Could their talk about Raven’s Point and Dominick Spencer account for this strange behavior, or had he simply, suddenly, realized the lateness of the hour?
“Camille…”
“Very well, Adam,” she murmured, dumping out the wine from their goblets and stuffing the refuse from their meal into the saddlebag.
Taking his impatiently outstretched hand, she noted his palm was cool and damp.
But she hardly had an instant to give it much thought as he strode with her to the horses and swung her up into the saddle, then turned to his own mount.
“Adam, your coat.”
He seemed not to hear her. Mounting, he wheeled his snorting stallion around and took off at a full gallop, riding away as if a pack of demons were at his heels. She could only follow after him, stunned, confused, and, in spite of herself, more intrigued than ever.